He kisses her lips,
Dissolves into smoke,
His touch lingering on her hips,
Her imagination runs amok.
As she passes through life,
Riding neither low nor high,
She pictures him by her side,
Once every fortnight.
He comes up in a whirl of smoke,
Kisses her forehead luck,
Carries her tears with the rain,
Helps her close her eyes and fuck.
They haven’t met in years,
Will never meet again,
But in her mind they are making love,
And have been, for four years, two months and five seconds.